


State of Absence

by dinoburger



Series: CC lore nobody asked for [1]
Category: LISA (Video Games)
Genre: Childhood Friends, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, M/M, Manipulation, Non-Graphic Violence, Other, Pre-Apocalypse, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-03-21
Packaged: 2019-11-22 20:05:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18141164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dinoburger/pseuds/dinoburger
Summary: what sort of person carries a childhood grudge? we're all adults here right?even if barely.Brad and Chris cross paths again after a good while.





	1. State of Absence

**Author's Note:**

> Brad gets gender neutral pronouns sometimes because I says so.

Early spring, everything was fresh and warm, two teenage boys left the school yard as the day came to an end.

The young Brad Armstrong had an uneven fuzz on his pudgy cheeks. His clothes struggled to keep up with him, continually needing to pull his shirt down over his belly.

Rick strolled beside him, quite the opposite, his face was starting to become more defined, he had the makings of a handsome young man and it did catch the attention of quite a few girls in their class. It was easy to look over the few little spots on his skin that came up now and again, but he still resented them ever being pointed out to him.

Just talking, laughing.

Brad’s fingers grazed Rick’s and casually, with those glittering blue eyes Rick took hold. When it was only them, this would happen sometimes. He didn’t seem to notice how Brad’s smile became slightly more shy.

That contact felt important, too important. It filled his chest, it terrified him, that any little thing could break it.

But Rick, fortunately, talked on, describing some stupid thing Cheeks had done earlier that day. The four of them together was always fun, but somehow, when it was just him and Rick, the space between them felt different. Heavier, closer, softer.

He didn’t want to overthink it, didn’t want to ruin it.

Things were changing, but it wasn’t so bad. Some things didn’t change.

With a hard shove from behind Brad stumbled forward. Regaining his balance, he turned.

“Hey bitch.” Chris was still sporting his signature mohawk, now with sunglasses to make him that much harder to read.

There were the feeble beginnings of a moustache on his upper lip, no longer bearing the cruel smirk he’d often worn as kids. He ran his tongue over his teeth, feeling the space where one was missing.

Chris was barely any taller than Brad now, with Rick being the tallest of the three, but Brad put himself between them regardless. He expected them to be surrounded by Chris’s gang.

Chris wasn’t the solo type, but he’d been pissed off. Seeing the object of his hatred in such a good mood made his insides twist and writhe, further when he’d watched them holding hands. The way Brad defended him made it bubble up even more.

He grabbed the front of Brad’s stained shirt and snarled. “Where dost thou think they’re going? I’m not done with you-”

A hard crack. His sunglasses thrown off onto the ground. The force of Brad’s elbow across his face made him reel back.

He stood and stared in utter disbelief. Blood leaked from his nose and tears leaked from his wide eyes. Brad wore a matching look of shock and horror, tearing up out of fear and sympathy.

He wanted to do something, just not that. He felt sick. Chris was really gonna let him have it now, he knew he would.

Chris crouched down to retrieve his sunglasses, wiped behind the black frames, wiped his nose on his arm. He studied the smear of fresh red against rows of thick scars already there.

Rick yanked Brad’s wrist, riding that adrenaline rush to flee the scene.

“Holy shit Brad, that was cool!” Rick laughed, running full tilt.

Surprised, he managed a smile himself. “We’re gonna get the shit beaten out of us tomorrow…”

“Worth it!”

* * *

 

Chris Columbo navigated through people, he observed them, but never felt he was one of them. They existed, and he merely filled the gap in between. There was no self there.

He envied them.

After school was through, the gents all went on with their lives, occupied by jobs and families. Chris worked at night and slept in late, his world out of sync with any of theirs.

The people he saw were strange and strangers, lovers he never loved. He resented them, beautiful and distant, so it always ended before it could begin with the few partners he’d had.

People were too different from him.

It was late afternoon, Chris wandered through the park he’d often played in as a child. And there was Brad, who he’d sworn had slipped out of his life too. Of course in a place like Olathe, he’d noticed him peripherally. He eyed him up to make doubly sure it was the right guy.

Brad was sprawled out on a park bench, floral shirt all opened up with his gut just poking out of his singlet. Totally oblivious to anything, in a space of his own.

Chris stood back and watched for a while. Nobody around, didn’t seem like he was waiting for anything. He took slow, confident strides towards him, in no hurry.

“Howdy bitch boy.” he greeted.

Brad blinked, slow to process him. “Uhhn… hi…?”

He squinted up at the figure looming over him now, a leather jacket thrown over Columbo’s shoulders, white shirt unbuttoned to expose his chest, leather belt, black leather pants, black fingerless gloves. Same old mohawk, same old sunglasses.

“...Chris?”

“Miserable wretch, all on your lonesome. What a sight thou art.” Columbo remarked.

He set a boot down between Brad’s splayed out legs, thumping the bench. “Are none of thy companions nearby?”

Brad shook his head pathetically.

Columbo hummed, straightened, glanced out towards the sky being eaten away by orange light.

“...Would you care for a drink?”

Bewildered, Brad shrugged. “Uh, sure? Sounds good to me.”

“Accompany me.”

“Okay.”

Columbo waited for him to get up and follow silently, Brad groaning as he got to his feet. He didn’t say where they were going, leading him down to the bus stop, jumping aboard and making sure he bought himself a ticket when they got on. They rode in silence with Columbo opting to stand near him rather than sitting next to him.

Brad felt like he should at least try to make conversation, how things were going. They were adults here, right? He had no reason to hold old grudges from school...right?

Maybe if he were in a better state of mind he would’ve thought this through a little more before agreeing to it, but as it was, he wasn’t.

Besides, he wasn’t on great terms with most other people in his life, as it was. Seeking different company wasn’t so outrageous, even company as dubious as… this.

Interesting outfit, he noted Chris had grown out that moustache nicely too.

It was getting dark before they reached their stop. Down into the shadows, through to a strange little bar. He let Brad seat himself, before making his way around behind the counter.

“What can I get you?”

Brad proceeded to spend the evening keeping Columbo company at his bartending job. They mostly just watched others come and go in a haze. As before, talk was practically non-existent between the two.

“Have… have you been doing much since school?” Brad attempted.

“I have not.”

“Oh.”

Columbo prepared another drink and Brad was momentarily mesmerised by his hands, and then his chest. Columbo either didn’t notice or didn’t care.

Brad snapped themselves out of it just enough to continue the weak thread of interaction. 

“I’m a karate teacher now. I got, uh, I inherited my grandpa’s dojo… pretty good… I mostly teach kids…” he explained.

“I dislike children.”

“Ah… that’s, that’s fair…” they replied meekly.

Columbo got busy serving a few customers, and Brad felt sheepish to keep trying.

“...Do you have any?” Chris prompted.

Brad blinked, “Kids? I guess… technically…” he struggled to spit it out. “You could say I have a son.”

“Have you wedded?”

Brad shook their head. “I live alone, he’s adopted.”

“No partners?”

“No… you?”

“No.”

“Good to know…” he thought out loud.

Chris finished late. Brad got the feeling he might’ve fallen asleep with his head in his arms at some point that night.

“I'll walk you home. Where are you heading?”

“...the dojo, not far from where you found me.” he admitted. “I don't have anywhere else to live at the moment.”

“Hm.”

Anticlimactic would be one way to describe it. But that was fine, Brad didn’t mind that. He could use less interesting things in his life.

Columbo seemed more drained on the trip home with his head tilted down against the arm he was using to hold himself up. Eventually he relented and sat beside Brad, letting his body hang forward.

They returned to the dojo without issue, set to part ways.

“I’ll see you around…” Brad started to push through the door.

“Wait.” Columbo grabbed the front of his shirt and the man tensed as he was pulled back in, startlingly close.

There was a long pause, Chris’s mouth hung open, those black frames untelling. He breathed like he was about to say something, fixed on Brad, but without a word he released him again.

“...Will you be free in two days?” Columbo turned his head away.

“I… yeah?”

“Good, I shall return.”

With that he turned on his heel and fled into the night

* * *

Brad liked that Columbo didn’t worry or care about him too much, no matter how out of it he seemed. Rick, Sticky, even Cheeks were distressed by what he was doing to himself, but Chris wasn’t.

He and Columbo were on the outside looking in, while their friends got on with their lives, tried to become better people. Meanwhile they’d be getting fucked up on painkillers together.

Chris admired their suffering.

And he just lingered over them in that way. Teetering, as if he wanted something, but still Brad couldn’t read him.

Another long bus trip. Chris sat right in front of them this time, but turned backwards in his seat to face him. Brad rested their arms on the back of his seat to get in close and smile.

Columbo seemed to watch, with his mouth open just enough for Brad to see that gap where his tooth was missing. The world was a blur of shifting, dancing colours in the light that moved through the bus windows, with the two of them in the middle of it.

“I could swear you’re trying to kiss me sometimes.” Brad laughed.

“Would you object?”

“No.”

Columbo licked his lips. That was an invitation. But he didn’t move.

Brad pushed himself up, closer to him, finally Columbo moved his hands from the back of the seat to Brad’s shoulders to draw them in. It was a slow, hazy kiss. They paused every so often just to breathe each other, flesh and bad breath and Columbo’s cigarettes.

They smacked their foreheads together when the bus went over a bump. But still not wanting to let go yet.

There’s no big acknowledgement of it, the two simply fell in step. Brad felt the weight of Columbo’s leather clad sleeve around his shoulders when they walked together. They went through darker roads in more obscure parts of Olathe, so no familiar eyes should spot them, moving through other strangers.

In broad daylight, he kept to himself, but Columbo still hovered near.

It's a quiet reclamation of the world that left them both so isolated. A connection aimless and wandering, existing but for itself.

They got back to the dojo one night, and from inside, smaller ears heard them come through the door. Rubbing his sleepy eyes, clad in his pyjama pants, the boy emerged into the light of the makeshift kitchen/break-room from the back.

Dusty had been shooting up in height, now at about Brad’s shoulder, still he felt tiny compared to the two men and especially the stranger.

Chris's presence in the room was demanding and foreign. He turned his head towards him, his face obscured, but the stare through those black lenses held Dusty in place.

“Oh, hey kid. Didn’t think you’d be up.” Brad greeted.

“I-I only ju-just woke up then…” despite being fairly broad and muscular, Dustin was as timid as a baby deer, blue eyes round and worried.

“You can go back to sleep, this is an old friend of mine. He won’t stay long.” his guardian explained.

“A-ah.”

Columbo remained impassive, offering no introduction of his own.

“Uhm…. g-goodnight, m-m-master…”

“Yeah yeah, goodnight.”

With that, he retreated back through the dark doorway.

Columbo’s gaze followed him for a few seconds. “Cute kid.”

“Debatable.” Brad grumbled. “He could stand to grow more of a backbone.”

Columbo quirked an eyebrow but added nothing else.

* * *

Sticky was getting better at turning him down. It was hard, and opening up to someone about what he and Brad had been up to was terrifying, but Rick was nothing but understanding towards him.

Knowing he had that kind of support boosted his confidence. What Rick’s support couldn’t help him with, however, was something like this.

Merely recognising Columbo put Sticky on edge. Watching him come in his direction, accompanied by one of his goons, made his heart plummet no matter how hard he tried to convince himself it was just a coincidence. Every step made him sink lower and lower until they were right in front of him, and he couldn’t pretend anymore.

“Salutations.” Chris stated dryly.

He was somehow even more intimidating than he had been in school. Sticky couldn’t remember the other gent’s name either, but he recognised that snide smirk, with small rectangular frames and a smart shirt and slacks that made it seem like he’d just gotten off from work.

“We heard you have painkillers.”

That threw him for a loop. Sticky’s mind raced.

How the fuck did they know?

They were going to beat him up for drugs. He could lie, but then they’d beat him twice as hard if they really did know. He was dead. Rick would have to come fish his body out of a ditch.

“Y-yeah.” he squeaked.

“What are you charging?”

Sticky was shaking throughout the whole exchange.

What the fuck was happening? Why was this happening? His mouth and body were on autopilot, he couldn’t feel himself talk.

“Cool, alright let’s split.” The other gent shot one last smirk at Sticky as they left.

Oh god, that was it? Thank God. Sticky sat there putting his poor shattered nerves back together while Columbo took his illicit goods back to his favourite toy for a visit.

* * *

Brad had been pacing back and forth in the break room when Columbo showed up. He snapped toward him, chewing at his fingers. Chris studied the tension heavy in his eyes, ragged and desperate.

He was going to savour this.

“We’ve been having fun, haven’t we?” there was weight to those words.

“I guess so…” Brad muttered, fidgeting.

“You’re preoccupied today.” Columbo pointed out. “There’s something you want, isn’t there?” a bit too smug.

Brad mumbled incoherently. A smile tugged at Chris’s lips, one that had been absent for a very long time.

He offered out his hand and watched Brad’s expression change as he noticed the contents, the little pills. Columbo only let him look, and put them away into his pocket.

“What would you do for it?”

Brad gritted his teeth. “What do you want?”

Chris felt the gap of his missing tooth with his tongue, thinking it over. “Get on your knees.”

Their frown deepened, despairing, but Brad didn’t give himself too long to think about it. They sank to the floor as asked. Fixing them with that insufferable grin, Columbo circled. He was giddy with it, his insides squirmed with anticipation.

“Oh Bradley, look at you.” he teased. “Are you not worried your son might see?”

Brad focussed on the kitchen floor, as Chris made his way behind him. A hard boot to his back forced him down even further.

“Pitiful.”

He was on his hands and knees now. He could feel the grime sticking to his palms.

“Stay down there.”

He obeyed. Columbo’s voice was doing things to his head.

Brad was at his mercy. He got down on one knee next to him, grabbing a handful of that black mane and shoving his head as far as it could go. Brad stifled a groan, cheek flat to the ground, pleading silently up at him.

Deliciously hopeless. Columbo drank it in, breathing harsh through his nose.

Brad remained in place after being released, only coming back up onto his palms as Columbo pulled back on his shoulders. He grunted, Columbo’s weight lowered onto him as he straddled his back, mounting him like an animal. He leaned forward so Brad could feel his mouth right next to his ear.

“Crawl.”

He moved slow, one hand in front of the other, heaving the two of them along. As he strained on all fours in the dimly lit kitchen, Columbo stroked and tangled his fingers in his hair.

“That’s it.” he breathed.

He let his hands wander even further forward, tugging Brad’s beard and sliding under his shirt to feel his chest.

“That’s enough.” Chris decided, still wrapped around them.

“Please…” they begged hoarsely.

“Want to take some now?”

“Yes…”

“Don’t use your hands.” Columbo instructed.

“Okay.”

He could feel Chris shifting around behind him, stretching his fist forward, enough so that the pills fell to the floor in front of him.

“There you go.”

Brad wished he’d cleaned this place more often. He eased down again, unable to avoid touching his mouth to the ground. It didn’t matter, he was getting what he wanted. Chris snickering at him all the while.

“You filthy son of a bitch. Proud of yourself?” he sneered.

Brad didn’t bother to answer that.

“No matter, I’ve got what I wanted out of you. For now.” Chris pushed himself up off of Brad at last.

Brad rose after him, noticing him setting down the remaining painkillers on the counter.

“You play so nice for me.”

Brad turned him around and slammed him back into the wall. Chris choked, sunglasses skewed.

Brad snarled. “This nice?”

Chris was grinning again, maybe from sheer nerves. “Hah…”

“I’ll fucking kill you.” he growled.

“Do it.” Columbo gasped.

Brad smacked him, knocking the glasses off. Slammed him back again. Grabbed him by the throat.

Columbo could feel the grip of his hands as he swallowed. His heart was pounding.

Brad dragged him until he was sitting on the floor and Brad was straddling his lap. Both breathing hard.

“Come on, kill me.” Chris dared him.

Their eyes were locked. Brad winced, pained.

“Why…? Why are you doing this…?” they asked.

Chris just laughed.

Brad let him go. They curled up against Chris’s chest and wrapped their arms around him, as gently as they could.

“I’m… sorry.”

“Don’t be, I wanted this.” he sighed. “Love, hate… they’re just two sides of the same coin for people like us… is that not true?”

“I don’t know…” Brad’s voice was tight. “I’m so sorry.” they nearly sobbed, squeezing hold.

The two stayed there in a panting heap.

* * *

Dusty stirred, a larger hand gently pushing his fine blond hair away from his resting face.

Brad sat beside him. He wanted to check that he’d slept through the whole ordeal.

“I’m sorry…” he whispered. “You didn’t hear anything, did you?”

Dusty shook his head, yawning. “Nnnh… no…? What… what’s g… going on?”

“Nothing.”

“Oh...okay.” Dustin smiled up at him.

Brad hesitated, before sadly smiling back. “You can go back to sleep.”

The boy hummed, too tired to keep talking. He’d forget the weird exchange by morning.

* * *

Chris couldn’t remember how he’d lost that tooth, only that it’d been at some point between being a child and a teenager. It was another space in his mind, another absence. He was absent to his life, looking for other absent souls.

He drifted, drifted through.

After the flash, however, he’d had little to lose. He wasn’t shaken, as always, he’d never truly been a part of that world.

That was how his group had come back together, their little lives collapsed along with society. They were schoolboys again, reaping havoc across Olathe.

When the world ceased to have meaning, meaningless men like him thrived.


	2. bonus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought I was done for sure but then I suddenly needed more...
> 
> I didn't want to make a separate thing for this either because it doesn't really fit into any other context besides this work
> 
> enjoy more shenanigans

Dusty was in a world of his own, which wasn’t a bad thing. In fact he was having a rather good day, earlier he’d found some neat bugs including a fuzzy caterpillar or two, climbed a tree impressively high and managed to get back down with only a few scrapes, despite scaring himself a little from the height.

It was just starting to get later now, with the shadows around growing heavier and the glinting sun just beginning to sink. He distracted himself by tracing lines around the rocks with a stick.

He sighed. Dusty pulled himself up from a crouch to survey his random patterns in the dirt. Ants were crawling over his feet too. He shook them off one at a time, better find something else to do.

He turned and squealed at the figure looming behind him.

Too tall to be Brad. Dressed dark.

Columbo had been standing there in silence for who knows how long.

“Hey.”

“U-uh…. H… hi…” the weak sound was chased even further back into his throat from anxiety, hardly audible.

“Thou art Brad’s child if I’m not mistaken?” Dusty had never heard his voice before, it sounded like he was putting on a slight accent to make himself seem refined.

Instead it sounded bizarre, especially coming from that mustachioed mouth.

Dustin nodded.

“Where hath your Brad gone?”

“Uhm…h-he’s...” Dusty’s brow furrowed, looking down as he searched his memory. “Uhn… I-I don’t know.” he confessed.

Columbo cocked his head. “...And what was your name?”

“Duh, Dustin, y-you can c-c-call me Dusty if, if you like.” he stammered, offering a nervous smile.

“How long have you been running around out here?”

A small shrug.

Columbo glanced back and forth across the field. Not a soul in sight, only trees and dirt and bare struggling grass.

“I-I usually p-play on my own ‘til it gets dark.” he explained.

The man hummed. As before, Dusty couldn’t read him.

“No little friends to protect you?”

“Th-there’s some other k-kids, s-s-sometimes… b-but they don’t like me too much.” Dustin frowned for a moment, but then lit up again. “It’s, it’s okay though, I’m g-gonna protect myself. I’m, I’m l-l-learning the Arms-strong f-fighting style.” he raised his little fists into a fighting stance, bright and triumphant.

He was only further encouraged by the smirk twitching Columbo’s moustache. “Is that so?”

“Y-yup.” he declared in the most certain voice he could muster.

“...You know, I knew Bradley when we were about your age.” Columbo grinned that one-tooth-short grin of his, crouching to the boy's level.

“R-really?” Dustin’s eyes shone. “L-like my un-uncles? Were you f-friends with him too? And, and S-Sticky, and Cheeks, a-and Rick?” he babbled.

Columbo’s lips twisted up into something more awkward. “I did happen to know them quite well, one could say. Brad wasn’t much of a fighter back then.”

“He, he w-wasn’t?” Dusty’s pale eyebrows raised.

Chris snorted. “Nope. Took him a long ass time to get any good at it.”

“W-wow…” the boy churned it over. “So then… I can get b-better too, a-and then, then th-things… things a-are g-g-gonna get better.” he told himself, moreso than the other.

Columbo’s grin faded as Dusty became preoccupied by his own thoughts. A small, vulnerable child all by himself, who relied completely on Brad, nowhere to be seen.

Hesitantly, Chris reached out, like he was approaching a small, timid animal, and delicately petted his head.

Dusty smiled uncertainly, before Chris retracted his hand again.

Here was Dustin, and here was he.

“I-I could uhm, sh-show you some m-m-moves if you want?” Dusty offered.

Columbo nodded, rising. “Let us find someplace for me to sit first.”

“O-okay.”

They walked together as they crossed the field, where that bench was. Dustin was half-murmuring excitedly about his karate classes, letting himself focus on that.

Chris watched and listened.

This picture of childish, boyish innocence that reminded him so dearly of his past. He recalled how the younger Bradley had been, laughing with their school friends.

As he did, he felt that familiar twisting stirring up inside him.

Those had been some of the clearest, most cohesive memories of his childhood. Smacking the smile off Brad’s face and beating the defiance out of them, exciting and vivid. The thrill of power.

Chris had his hand raised up behind Dusty’s head where he couldn’t see it. Too happy, too trusting, his fingers flexed behind that fragile head of delicate blond.

This small child was one of the few good things left in Brad’s lonely little life and they scarcely cared for him. Nobody would even see.

No matter how well Dusty had been training, someone of Chris’s height and weight could overpower him. He could snuff out that tiny spark of light.

His heart throbbed at the thought of it. His head spun dizzily. His insides thrashed. He was almost straining for breath by the time they made it over to the bench.

This mere child, still, he envied him.

Dusty, as always, couldn’t read him. He had no insight to the ugly things swarming and writhing behind those sunglasses. 

Chris fell heavily onto the seat and Dusty stopped. Chris’s body hunched forward over himself.

He clenched and unclenched his fists, trying to get a hold while the boy remained quiet.

Chris panted softly through his mouth, building up to a harsh, vocal gasping, his brow creased behind the frames.

He couldn't control himself, everything swum, thick and painful. He wailed, his face running and red.

The outburst caught Dustin off guard.

While he wasn’t familiar with this man, he sat beside him and waited for his sobs to subside before speaking, knowing he wouldn’t be heard otherwise.

He’d seen adults cry in front of him before, or at least one adult. A number of times he’d found Brad, rolling around on the couch, incoherent, clutching their face, whimpering. Dusty stayed by their side all the while.

Whenever Brad remembered these times they seemed ashamed, so Dusty would try not to bring it up when they didn’t.

Between moaning shallow heaves, Chris slowly softened and settled. He steadied himself and sighed, wiped his eyes and bright red nose onto the collar of his shirt. He sniffed and swallowed.

“Would...would you ssstill l-like to see my m-moves?” Dustin asked tentatively.

“I’d like that.” Chris snuffled, having dropped the accent.

He crossed his arms and leaned back as Dusty demonstrated some fighting stances, kicking and punching the air.

Chris gave him little smiles of encouragement every now and then and swallowed back more sobs.

The thoughts had stopped, his chest felt uncomfortably warm but the squirming in his gut had stilled. He was okay for the moment.

That was more than he could ever ask for, meditative as darkness drew in.

“If you should chance to meet me back here sometime, I can teach you how to smoke.” Chris snickered, sounding more like his usual self.

Dustin frowned. “Master Armstrong says smoking is bad for you.”

“What would he know?”

“HEY!” A bark from behind startled them, rough and sharp.

Chris barely had time to turn and see Brad storming up before a thick, hairy arm half dragged him over the park bench to meet their fuming expression, dark and snarling.

“Speak of the devil.” he mumbled.

“What the _FUCK_ do you think you’re doing?” Brad snapped. 

“I-it’s okay dad--”

“ **_SHUT IT._ **”

Dustin squeaked. 

Brad pinched the bridge of their nose as they fought to compose themselves, holding tight.

“I can’t believe you…crawling back like this.” they growled. “Get out of here. Dustin, we’re going home.” they demanded.

“If thou insisteth.” Columbo righted himself and stepped away gracefully. “Was it so wrong for me to look out for a youth wandering on his own?”

“Yes. It’s none of your business.”

Columbo’s lip twitched. “If some unfortunate thing did befall him, would you ever forgive yourself?”

Brad ignored this, sucking a breath through their teeth and dragging Dusty back with them.  The boy stared helplessly behind.

Chris gave a little wave of goodbye as they left. He stood and waited for the two to disappear from sight.

That was that then.

He idly gazed up at the sky as stars were just blinking into view.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chris is a little fucked but that's okay, we still love him


End file.
